


Flight

by missbecky



Series: Words [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Aphasia, Flying, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 01:44:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2603987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over a year has passed since the accident that left Tony unable to speak. It's time for him to reclaim the skies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flight

**Author's Note:**

> These stories are finally a proper series! It only took me forever to make that happen.
> 
> Credit for the inspiration for this story must go to [inukagome15](http://archiveofourown.org/users/inukagome15/pseuds/inukagome15), [nightwalker](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nightwalker/pseuds/nightwalker) and [esteefee](http://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee) for all giving me similar prompts when I asked for them on Tumblr. When I started to think about their prompts, "flying" and "falling", this is what immediately came to mind. I hope they don't mind that I've combined them.

Tony doesn't remember falling.

He knows that he did, of course. He wouldn't be here otherwise, fighting constantly against his own traitorous brain. But he has no memories of that long fall, or of the battle that came before it. The doctors have told him this is normal and that he will never remember those things.

He's decided that he's fine with this. He hasn't gone so far as to ask JARVIS to delete the footage of the battle and his subsequent fall, but he tells himself that's only because it would take too long to actually find the right words and string them together in a sentence. It's not because he will one day find the courage to watch it. It's not that at all.

And it's especially not the reason today.

"Nervous?" Steve asks.

Tony looks at him. It's been a couple months since he first said Steve's name, since that magical day when he finally got the words out. _I love you, Steve._ He's had varied success since then; some days he still can't do it, producing nothing more than an aggravating hissing sound as his stupid brain gets hung up on the "s" sound. Most of the time, though, he manages to get it right without sounding like a snake.

"Not really," he lies, smooth as ever, and that's good, that's a good sign. He might actually be able to have a conversation today.

Lately the words are coming easier. Sometimes he actually gets three or four complete sentences out before he gets tripped up. He knows that there is no such thing as magic, not really, but there is still no denying that something happened that day in Steve's studio. That day he finally said those four words without stuttering or forgetting what they were. Because ever since then, he feels like he's finally getting on top of things, like he's scaling that mountain of dead words that's been piling up inside his head ever since his long fall from the sky.

Soon, he thinks, he might actually reach the top.

Steve smiles at him. "You'll do fine."

He hopes so. He desperately hopes so. Today is his first flight in the suit since the accident. He's ready, he's _been_ ready – but that doesn't stop his stomach from twisting into knots of anxiety.

Steve takes his hand. His fingers must be cold, because Steve's skin feels almost unbearably warm against his own.

He resist the urge to cling to Steve's hand and not let go. He's not going to give in over a bout of nerves now. He's waited too long for this. He's worked too hard to make this happen, to find a way to take back even a little of what he took for granted in the time before.

More than once he's thought that he would be willing to remain silent forever, if it means getting to fly again.

They take the elevator to the roof. Steve holds his hand the entire time. Together they step outside and head toward the assembly rig. It arches against the night sky, just waiting for him to approach.

Despite himself, Tony's step falters. It's early December and it's _cold_ out here. He tells himself that's the reason he's shaking. Just the cold and the wind. Nothing more.

"What if…?" The words die in his throat, unspoken. He utters a low sound of frustration.

Steve watches him, waiting for him. Not trying to guess what he meant to say and offering the words up as a suggestion. Steve never does that, knows better than that. Even after all this time, Steve remains so patient with him, and Tony knows that even if he somehow manages to regain all his fluency back, he will never find the words to express his gratitude for everything Steve has done for him.

He's got to say something now, though. He has to put this terrible thought into words before he goes, or he might never go at all.

He breathes in, trying to calm himself down. His therapist has often said that visualization helps. And quite often, it does. Form a mental picture of what he wants to say, focus on that, and then say it. But this is one thing Tony _doesn't_ want to imagine.

He makes himself do it anyway.

What if he falls?

He envisions the suit going dead around him like it did on that terrible day last summer, his connection to JARVIS severed, himself unconscious in the heavy weight of the armor. He envisions the long plummet to the ground below, red armored figure turning over and over in the air, nothing and no one stopping him. He envisions the collision with the street, no mere smashed skull and brain damage for him this time, but instant death.

"What if I fall?" he whispers.

"Then Hulk will catch you," Steve says instantly.

Tony feels stupid. He forgot Bruce was on the street below, a backup plan they all agreed on beforehand. Just in case.

"But you won't fall," Steve continues. "Because you designed this. And you're a genius, remember?" He smiles gently.

Tony doesn't smile back. He thinks of that dumb sign, the one Clint got for him as a joke, the bright yellow triangle with three words inside: _Genius at Work._ He couldn't read it for months, but he still knew what it said. He hung it outside the workshop as an act of defiance, because fuck you brain, he still _is_ a genius, even if he spent months unable to string two words together without a long halting pause in between them.

"Wave to me when you go past," Steve says.

He can't take this. He's afraid, damnit, and he hates that, he's so tired of being afraid and angry all the time. He's tired of being locked inside his own head and locked inside this Tower.

He wishes he could bring Steve with him. And he will, he promises himself. He will. But not tonight. 

Tonight is for himself.

First though, he kisses Steve. Hands cupping Steve's face, a long press of his mouth to Steve's, feeling the heat of Steve's breath on his cold lips. He bows his forehead against Steve's for a moment, gathering himself.

"Love you," he says, and then he turns away and walks toward the assembly rig.

The armor settles into place around him, familiar and welcome. The faceplate drops down and the HUD comes online. It's different from the one he used before, most of the words replaced by symbols and color-coding. He's spent months working out this new system of communication, direct gazes and finger controls on his part, although ironcally enough, the new procedures call for more speech from JARVIS.

Now he's finally ready to take it for a test drive.

JARVIS runs through the pre-flight check, giving him the lowdown on all the suit's systems. Tony scans the HUD, reading the stats wherever he can. He's been working hard on his reading comprehension the past couple weeks, realizing that it's time to step up his game. Speech has always come first in his recovery efforts; lately he's been making incredible progress in that area, but to the detriment of his reading and writing abilities.

Starting tomorrow, he'll work harder at reading, he vows. He will.

"Okay," he says. He takes a deep breath. "On my mmm…" The word twists out of reach. He knows what he wants to say. He just can't make his brain and his mouth cooperate. Violent curse words race through his mind. He starts to ball his hands into fists and then stops when half a dozen lights flare to life on the HUD as he inadvertently activates some of the suit's defenses.

He forces himself to stand down. To take one deep breath, then another. The HUD goes a soothing blue again.

"On my mark," Tony says. He counts it down, savoring these final seconds of being grounded because he knows they _are_ the last.

"Three. T—two. One. Mark."

And then he's off. Flying.

Nothing can ever outshine the unbridled joy of his first flight in the suit. But this comes close. Very close.

The exhilaration is beyond compare. He's flying again. After months of being forcibly earthbound and silenced, he is _flying._

Tony whoops out loud with pure happiness. 

In the sky, no words are required or even necessary. He arcs through the city, leaving two blazing trails behind him. JARVIS is in his ear, constantly giving him data. It's all on the HUD too, icons and some words he can read, others he can't because they flash past too quickly for his damaged brain to process. It doesn't matter. He banks left, swooping around a tall building, and he's laughing now, laughing out loud with joy, because he's flying again damnit!

He loops around yet another building, then sends the suit into a steep climb. Higher and higher, arrowing straight upward into realms where human speech is just a relic, where he can soar above the Earth and sob until he nearly makes himself sick, and no one can see, no one will ever know.

He's flying again. For so long he thought he would never have this, that he would be trapped forever behind those insurmountable barriers inside his own head. But he made it out, the way he made it out of that cave, stumbling out into the light of day and a new reality he forged for himself. He made it, and he knows now that he won't fall. He was never going to fall. Steve is right. He made this happen for himself.

He won't fall.

He lets the suit coast to a halt. Up here the enormous city is nothing but a spray of lights set against a backdrop of impenetrable darkness. Far below him, so small that he isn't even a speck, someone waits for him.

He nudges the comm with his chin and activates it. "Steve."

The reponse is swift, somewhat tinged with worry. "Tony?"

He wonders how long he's been out here. Long enough to make Steve worry, evidently. Even so, he doesn't try to say anything for a while. He's not sure he can just yet.

"You looked great," Steve says.

Tony smiles. Yeah. He knows he did.

He could stay up here for hours more, performing aerial acrobatics, pushing both the suit and himself to their limits, but there is Steve to think of, alone and shivering on the roof. He has to get back.

Besides, he can always come back up here. He knows that now. He can go anywhere he wants. He can fly again.

"I'm…" He halts, a jumbled humming noise coming between him and the words. He takes a deep breath and looks around at the star-studded sky.

He tries again. "Wait for m--me. I'm coming…home."

He can hear the smile in Steve's voice. "I'll be here."

Tony switches the comm off. He looks at the display, noting the speed he wants for the return trip.

Then he's arcing through the night, flying back home.


End file.
